


Divine Limitations

by Lady_of_Greenwood



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, I promise no one dies!!!, Pre-Relationship, but ya know eggs and omlettes and all that, except some imperials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 08:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20597930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Greenwood/pseuds/Lady_of_Greenwood
Summary: Even the power of a Goddess has its limits





	Divine Limitations

**Author's Note:**

> Why. Are. Titles. A. Thing. That. Exists?!

Claude hadn’t seen the attack coming.

He had been distracted by a falcon knight, heading towards him in what could only be a suicide attack to take down the leader, and Claude had been forced to let loose multiple arrows when the damn enemy refused to fall after the first hit.

No, he hadn’t seen the attack coming. All he had seen was Byleth’s green eyes, wide with horror he had never known her capable of as blood began gushing from her nose.

The way she called his name, desperate and terrified, sent a stab through his heart.

It was followed by the stab of something else, something quite physical.

Claude wasn’t sure what had hit him - an arrow maybe, or a javelin - but the impact to his back pushed the air out of his lungs and him out of his saddle.

He didn’t even feel himself hit the ground, only heard the sickening crunch of bones breaking and the heart-wrenching cry of Byleth who should never have to sound like that. Not ever.

Even as his lungs refused to draw in breath Claude’s eyes sought her out like they always did, found her pushing through her battalion on unsteady feet, her own blood soaking through the front of her shirt. She was too pale.

Where was Marianne? Or Mercedes? Someone had to heal her!

Maybe that was his last thought, or maybe his last thought was that Byleth looked like a vengeful goddess as she swung the Sword of the Creator through the air like a dragon’s tail.

Maybe his last thought was that breathing shouldn’t be this hard.

But if Claude had to be honest with himself, his last thought probably went along different lines.

_Oh Goddess…don’t make me leave her alone._

Yeah. That sounded more like him.

* * *

When she saw Claude fall, Divine Pulse activated on instinct.

She would turn back time and warn him, just as she always did.

“The falcon knight is a distraction,” she’d say. “There’s an archer behind you.”

She never got that far.

Maybe Byleth had used it too much, maybe her emotions has gotten the best of her - and wouldn’t that be something - but it didn’t really matter why. When she hit that critical moment just before the arrow hit its mark, something tore inside her, like a fish hook behind her sternum tearing through her flesh into her head. Blood flooded her mouth, too hot to bear, as Divine Pulse slipped out of her grasp and away.

She heard herself scream as if from far away but the arrow still hit and she could hear Claude gasp even over the cacophony of battle around her.

As he fell their eyes met over the battlefield, and if her heart could beat it would have stopped right then and there. If her heart could beat it would have shattered itself on her ribcage when she saw Claude land in his back, the heavy arrow pushing through his body in a spray of gore.

Byleth was moving long before her mind gave her the order, unsteady legs carrying her across bloody mud, breaking voice calling for Marianne or Mercedes or even Lysithea, anyone who could heal.

Vaguely she noticed one of Petra’s men send up a flare that hang across the scene like a bloody moon, sending its red glare onto weapons that reflected it in countless sparks.

It also caught the archer on her wyvern that was circling back around to finish the job.

The Sword of the Creator cut her down without mercy, the power flowing through Byleth’s veins not even a drop against the fear that fuelled her in her mad dash for Claude.

Her knees hit the ground hard, tearing her skin through her leggings and probably fracturing a kneecap. She didn’t care.

“Claude!” Was that her voice?

His eyes fluttered open, bleary as they sought her face. Something like a smile flittered across his lips, a trickle of blood bubbling up between them, and she could have screamed. She didn't.

“You’ll be fine, this is nothing Marianne can’t fix,” she said, trying to project a calm she didn’t feel and only managing to sound hysterical.

It didn’t matter either way, there was no comprehension in his eyes. He couldn’t hear her, had probably lost too much blood already. She could feel it soaking her clothes, weighting down her coat to pull at her shoulders. Goddess, there was so much blood. Damaged artery...usually fatal...

_No, don't think like that!_

There had to be something she could do, anything. Her own healing abilities were nothing special but surely…no, she didn’t know how to push bones back into place, not when they had pierced flesh and skin.

Why was she always useless when it came to helping those she cared about?!

Byleth didn’t notice her own breathing escalate or the tears on her cheeks until a feather light touch made time stand still. It was Claude’s gloved hand on her jaw, fingertips trailing up her skin to cup her face, thumb gently stroking her cheekbone.

She could almost hear him admonish her gently, tell her to smile to keep up morale, that the soldiers needed her to be strong. But when his hand slipped away and his eyes closed she had no strength left to even cry anymore.

Everything around her narrowed down to Claude’s still body, the body of her first friend, of her first confidante, of so many firsts she didn’t want to stop counting yet. There had to be more firsts they could experience together, at least one more!

Later she would hear from Hilda that the archer she had killed had been the enemy commander. She would also learn that it was Raphael and Felix who gently pulled her away as Marianne, Mercedes and Flayn gathered around their prone leader, magic at their fingertips.

She wouldn’t remember Dorothea stroking her hair to calm her down until the next day, and Petra cleaning the blood off her face until the day after that.

What Byleth did remember, every time she closer her eyes, was that she had failed to save Claude and the consequences of that.

The horrible, horrible consequences.

* * *

He was surprisingly comfy when he woke up. He wasn’t quiet sure why he felt like he got run over by a demonic beast but there was a pillow under his head and the smell of herbs in the air so his sluggish mind reasoned “safe” and “infirmary”.

As his mind cleared he tried to recall the events that lead up to this moment. He remembered the request for help arriving with a frazzled messenger, remembered gathering a small force to free the besieged village, remembered joking with Byleth about this being just like old times, coaxing a small giggle out of her that had done something weird to his heart…

_Alright, Riegan, focus!_

Claude remembered the ambush and the realization that they’d been played, remembered the falcon knight, Byleth’s face covered in blood, the pain in his back, falling, Byleth’s eyes wide with panic, her voice…

He could hear her voice even now, supposed to be so soft, screaming for him. Usually she barely spoke louder than a whisper, the presence behind her words powerful enough to fill rooms and quiet armies, so that she would scream like this because of him broke his heart.

Byleth should never have to sound like that.

Oh. He had thought that at the time too.

He must’ve passed out soon after, or at least grown incoherent, because that was where his memories ended, with her voice still echoing in his head.

No wait. He was actually still hearing her voice, not far away and no longer breaking against her vocal cords like rock on rock.

Claude quieted his racing thoughts, focused on his body’s ability to sense his surroundings. Nader had made him walk the grounds blindfolded so many times it came as naturally as breathing…not that breathing came naturally right now, that still hurt like a bitch.

_Focus!_

Byleth’s presence was bright as a star in the dark, so close Claude could probably touch her if he reached out his hand. He honed in on her and with that beloved focal point his other senses found their balance.

She wasn’t speaking, she was singing. A wordless song, a melody he had never heard but that still felt nostalgic in a way. As if it tickled something buried deep in his blood that had been asleep for centuries.

Claude hadn’t known she could sing.

Her voice was soft and airy, much like Byleth herself. He had never quite gotten a grasp on her, whenever he thought he had figured her out she fluttered away like a butterfly, revealing ever more mesmerizing colours on her ever beating wings.

It was that mystery that made her so beautiful to him, especially since she wasn’t even attempting to trick or mislead. She was as open as a book, he simply couldn’t read the language.

But with every new thing be discovered about her Claude felt like he grew more fluent and even now his vocabulary gained a few new words.

Byleth could sing.

Somehow that knowledge gave him enough strength to open his eyes and find her at his bedside.

“I didn’t know you could sing…”

She stopped with a sharp inhale, her head jerking up so fast a strand of her hair got stuck to her lips. Her eyes were rimmed with red. She had been crying.

He watched with a heavy heart as her mouth worked to form words until her jaw snapped shut with an audible click. She hung her head again, hair covering her eyes.

She was a mess. Her hair was unkempt and tousled the way it always was after a fight, her lips were bitten bloody and her clothes still stained. Her left knee has been wrapped up but it was not a clean job, obviously done in the field.

Claude had no way of knowing how long he had been out but one thing was clear; she hadn’t left his side for a moment.

“I didn’t use to.” Her voice broke his train of thought, small and tired as it was. “This is the only song I know…well, the only one that isn’t a hymn anyway.”

When she didn’t continue he mobilised what little strength he had to put his hand over hers. She was shaking.

“Where did you learn it?”

Byleth looked down at their hands, pulling one out from under Claude’s to place it on top of his tentatively, as if he would break if she moved too fast. Only Byleth had ever treated him with such care.

“Sothis…,” she murmured, “we heard Rhea sing it and when dad died Sothis sang it to me to calm me down.” Claude would give so much to wipe that pained smile away that settled on her lips at the memory. “It worked when she did it.”

“And it doesn’t now?”

“Not like when she did it.”

He hummed and squeezed her hand, felt her squeeze his in return. Her fingers were always cool to the touch but right now they were ice cold. And she was still shaking.

“Hey,” he breathed gently, “come on, look at me.” She did and he gave her a lopsided smile. “I’m okay.”

She huffed. “You almost weren’t.”

Claude tried to shrug but it came out more like a twitch. “Yeah well, almost doesn’t buy you tea at the market.”

Claude had never seen Byleth angry with him but she sure was now. Her hands were gone so quickly he worried vaguely his nails would tear her skin. “This is serious, Claude! You could’ve died!”

Hold on, he knew that tone. She wasn’t angry at him, she was angry at herself. And that made no sense.

“But I didn’t,” he said and tried to push himself up into a sitting position. Byleth immediately jumped up to help and then glared at her hands as if they had somehow betrayed her before sitting heavily on the narrow mattress.

“By.” Her gaze flew up, that adorable open mouthed look of confusion settling over her features at the unfamiliar nickname. “I didn’t.”

Byleth drew a deep breath to settle her nerves. “You shouldn’t have gotten hurt in the first place.”

“We’re at war, these things are bound to happen.”

“Not with me around!” She turned so her back was to him and somehow he noticed only now that her coat was missing. Goddess, she looked tiny for someone so powerful. “But I got careless and overused it and put everyone in danger!”

Claude smelled a secret. No, that wasn’t right, Byleth didn’t keep secrets. But she did withhold information if she felt they could do more harm than good. And usually that involved the Goddess somehow.

“Is this about your powers?” Byleth’s shoulders stiffened, one of the few tells she had. “You know you can tell me anything.”

The tension fell away as if someone has cut her strings and she turned back towards him, looking defeated. “I can turn back time.”

Whatever he had thought she would say, this wasn’t it. Claude had read about people with such powers, back when he had still dreamt of knights and witches and evil dragons that stole princesses from castles, long before he ever questioned why it was always the princesses who needed rescuing.

With anyone else he would’ve been inclined to call them a liar but…this was Byleth.

Byleth didn’t lie.

Suddenly it all made sense; how she always seemed to know where an attack would come from, how she could lead an army into battle against a superior enemy and come out the other side with little casualties. She was a gifted tactician and strategist, a brilliant leader, but no one could fight a perfect battle. Not without divine intervention. Troops who believed their tactician was perfect fought better, so he understood why she kept it to herself. He would’ve told her exactly that had he known.

But she had spoken of overuse…

“This ability has a limit, I take it?”

If Byleth was surprised at the question she didn’t show it, she only nodded and fiddled with a scrape on her arm, picking at the scab and making it bleed. He slapped her hand away.

“And you hit that limit just before…” he trailed off when she nodded again. “The nosebleed?” Another nod. “I see…well, tell me something.” His mind was racing so fast Claude wouldn’t have been shocked if his head just exploded. The things he did for this woman.

“Hm?”

“Who would have died if you hadn’t turned back time?”

Her face went blank, the way it did sometimes when she didn’t want to feel but did anyway.

Claude didn’t push, only waited. Byleth still needed time to sort through and understand her own feelings on occasion and right now was one such occasion.

“Seteth,” she said eventually, gaze far off as if she could see the exact moment again. She probably could. “Ashe, Judith, Bernie and Ann. Catherine lost her sword arm. Ferdinand and Ingrid. Sylvain got hurt and Felix lost it for a moment.” Not surprising. “Flayn lost a leg…”

Claude caught her hand in his again when it went back to fiddle with her wound. Her fingers were trembling again.

“You saved every single one of those people,” he said. He had never been good at cheering people up, but Byleth made him want to try. He really was powerless when it came to her. “Our comrades, our friends, By. We’re at war, we can’t save everyone but you saved them. That was _you_.”

Byleth was silent for another long moment, sorting her feelings, processing information. He could see the moment she decided to accept his words as truth when the shadow lifted from her eyes. Not completely, but the light returned to them just enough to make him smile.

“I’ll be more careful,” she said eventually, silent determination in her voice. “I can probably adjust our formation to allow for more healers.”

Claude grinned. “That’s my girl!” He laughed when she snorted and rolled her eyes. “As soon as I’m out of here we’ll do just that. And knowing Manuela she will kick me out sooner rather than later.”

“You are a horrible patient.”

“Uff, you wound me!” She chuckled and Claude could’ve sworn the sun came out when she did.

“Hey Claude?”

_Woah, Riegan, you gotta learn to focus!_

He shook himself mentally. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” Her smile was dazzling.

Yeah, it might be time to admit he was maybe, just maybe, a little bit in love.

“You’re welcome.” He squeezed her hand. “Wanna do something for me in return?”

Byleth rolled her eyes again, fondly. “Anything.”

The amount of beats his heart skipped should’ve killed him by now, this couldn’t be healthy. Well, a few more might do the trick.

“Sing for me?”

She did.


End file.
